The Impression That I Get
by Hysteria and Chaos
Summary: There was a pregnant pause, as Draco tried to digest the disgustingly sappy mess he’d just been reduced to, and Hermione tried to get over the shock of Draco Malfoy being far more then just civil.


Draco Malfoy was in way to deep

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Not even the poem, which is of course, 'Fire and Ice' by Robert Frost.

**A/N:** Meh, this is for all the hardcore Dramoine shippers who are about to kill themselves because I keep posting stories under Draco/Hermione or Harry/Hermione without Hermione really being in it. So look, here you have it. I lovely little love story. I hope… haven't actually finished it as I'm writing this.

Draco Malfoy was in way to deep. There was no doubt about it. He was incredibly stupid, and he was in way too deep. As he paced silver and green room he had been allocated upon receiving the position of head boy, he had time to consider exactly how it was he'd gotten into this mess. Looking back on all that had happened, he hide time to consider the rollercoaster of emotions that had lead to the complete and utter destruction of the world as he knew it.

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**Two Months Ago**

'Ah, Mr Malfoy, do come in.'

'You wanted to see me sir?' Dumbledore's office was always the same. That was one thing Draco liked about it, though he would never admit it. The consistency of the golden apparatus' whirling on the shelves, the portraits- resplendent in their artworks; some sleeping, other's listening intently to the most often secret conversations enacted by the headmaster and his guest. Fawkes perch stood always in the corner of the room, the only anomaly, though consistent in its inconsistency, was Fawkes himself. While Draco was never sure what stage of his life he'd find the Phoenix in, there was something strangely comforting in the circular life the bird seemed to live, it was proof to the still childlike part of his mind, that nothing would change, that the world would continue to rotate on its axis.

_Some say the world will end in fire…_

'You wanted to see me sir?' It was all Draco could do to hide the thinly veiled contempt in his voice. His eyes wandered over to the familiar perch, where Fawkes sat, old and sickly looking. He must be close to the end… Draco thought, slightly alarmed. He'd never seen Fawkes look this bad. As if answering some sadistic god, Fawkes burst into flames right in front of his eyes. Gasping loudly, Draco took a hurried step backwards, as Dumbledore's eyes took in the burning bird, and the more then slightly alarmed boy.

_Some say ice…_

'Yes, I called for you for a reason.' Dumbledore's eyes still twinkled madly as Fawkes pushed his head forth from within the large pile of ashes, eyes blinking in astonishment, drinking in the colours and sounds that constituted life. To Draco, it was a strangely moving moment, to see a creature so untainted by life and still maintaining such innocence that the whole world became a deliriously bright, daunting spectacle.

'I need to ask you a favour with regards to your, behaviour towards our head girl.' Dumbledore was speaking again, and upon hearing his words, Draco felt an icy calm settle over his shoulders, like a criminal condemned to hang.

He had known this was coming for some time now. He knew that should he be named head boy (there was never any question of who would get head girl), there would be a time when civil and mature actions would be expected of him. Therefore, he had resigned himself to his fate. He had built an icy façade around himself that would prevent him from getting to 'close' to the Mudblood. It would happen, he would be a commendable head boy, and his father would finally be proud of him. That in itself, was a change in which Draco strove for in his every action. In this sense, it wasn't so much a 'change' as it was a life goal.

'Yes sir,' Draco responded automatically, a thin and all too fake smile ghosting across his face, 'I understand that in order to set a good example for the rest of the school, I must be nothing but polite and courteous. I believe it is a role I can successfully assume.' He had not yet seen the Mudblood, having arrived at Hogwarts a scant few hours ago, but he sincerely hoped she had grown up as well.

Dumbledore smiled. An action which Draco suspected was not entirely crafted by the man's emotions. The twinkle in his eyes, if possible, intensified and inexplicably Draco felt an icy chill streak down his spine and he was attacked with a sense of de ja vu which seemed to say quite plainly that the world was about to end. Dumbledore was speaking again however, and so Draco forced himself to listen.

'I would expect nothing less of you Mr Malfoy. You are dismissed; you will find food from the welcoming feast in your quarters. You will also most likely find Ms Granger; the two of you share living quarters.' Draco left.

_From what I've tasted of desire…_

The head boy and girl's common room, located behind a portrait of a Phoenix (Draco shook his head at the irony) was a richly decorated room. Tapestries of medieval times covered the walls, which were a neutral white in colour, though they did have intricate gold and silver designs etched upon them. Couches were low and sunken, the same white, silver and gold colours, set around a large fire place. Taking in his surroundings, Draco failed to notice the second occupant of the room until he was almost halfway across it.

She sat on a couch, engrossed in a book, brown hair tumbling messily down her shoulders. Her nose was small and pert, and was only just visible on her side profile, so obscured was her face by her hair. His eyes drifted downwards, over a neat waist, and long pale legs, neatly tucked under her body. Inexplicably, his stomach lurched, a hot coil of desire lacing through him. Draco gasped, and she looked up, grey eyes meeting brown. Warmth infused the ice of his body, and Draco frowned. Hermione misinterpreted the look, and answered it with one of her own.

'It's great to see you too Malfoy,' she said tiredly, a note of irritation evident in her voice. Unbidden, Dumbledore's words came back to him, and it was with a huge effort that Draco dragged his icy mask back on.

'Look Granger, we're going to be working together a lot this year, and the headmaster suggested, and I agreed, that we call some sort of truce.' Draco saw her open her mouth to say something, and quickly hurried on, 'I think it will make the year a lot easier for the both of us if we treat each other with a modicum of respect.' She eyed him closely, and Draco could see that she was considering his words. Finally, she nodded.

'What you're saying makes sense, Draco,' she agreed, emphasising his name as if it were proof she was keeping to her side of the bargain. Despite himself, Draco once again felt a strange twist of desire within his stomach, and he was quick to leave the room, pausing only at the entrance to his dorm,

'Goodnight, Hermione,' he said softly, continuing on into his room, not seeing the look of pleasant surprise that flickered across the brunette's face, before she returned to her book.

_I hold with those who favour fire…_

'You've been avoiding me for the last three weeks.' Her tone was slightly accusatory, and despite his normally 'icy' veneer, Draco felt a blush rise, unbidden, to coat his cheeks as he stepped through the portrait hole. Angry with himself, and inexplicably her, for being able to affect him in such a way, Draco's voice rose,

'You're delusional Hermione,' the scathing contempt in Draco's voice was not offset by the use of her first name.

'Yes you have been, you're making my job very difficult, I can't organise – LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!' Hermione had snapped, crossing the room in an impossibly short amount of time, to pin him against the wall with an angry gaze. Draco complied with her request and glancing into the familiar, breathtaking honey brown eyes, he saw a plethora of emotions. Anger, dislike, annoyance… and still others that didn't quite make sense, confusion, sadness, and what was that? Disappointment?

Guilt rose up inside him, and Draco was unable to explain why.

'Answer me!' she cried, almost hysterical, and Draco was just in time to catch her as she fell forwards into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

'I-I thought we h-had a truce. Y-you've been ignoring m-men and it's been s-so hard…' his guilt intensified and Draco was filled with a need to right the wrongs he had committed.

'Shhhh Hermione, you've been doing a wonderful job, I'm sorry you think I've been avoiding you… I honestly wasn't.' There was a pregnant pause, as Draco tried to digest the disgustingly sappy mess he'd just been reduced to, and Hermione tried to get over the shock of Draco Malfoy being far more then just civil.

There was a reason Draco Malfoy was a Slytherin, he could lie with the best of them. truth be told, he had been avoiding Hermione. He was scared to see her, interact with her. Scared, because of the emotions she elicited within him. His speech seemed to have worked though, because she smiled up at him, eyes watery but with a curious surprise lurking within the intelligent hazel depths, and he was captivated, struck breathless by the innocent beauty she encapsulated. Like a newly reborn Phoenix, she had an innocent naivety about her that could only come from theoretical knowledge.

Unable to contain himself and for some strange reason not really wanting to, he bent down and kissed her, his lips brushing gently over hers, soft and caring, as if he were trying to reassure her with his kiss. He felt her start in surprise, and reality came rushing back. Dropping her, as if she were on fire, he abruptly turned and stalked away, not looking over his shoulders. Truly, the world had ended. So intent was he on getting away, he completely missed her look of surprise melt into one of knowing.

_But if it had to perish twice…_

The game had begun again, the main objective: avoidance. It had been exactly four days, six hours and twenty-seven minutes since Draco Malfoy had completely lost it. The icy façade, such an important aspect of his life and person, had begun to crack. It wasn't immediately obvious, but Draco was aware of the thin fissure-like cracks that marred his mask. Like global warming in Antarctica, he was growing dangerously hot. A chasm inside him yawned ever wider, like a huge gaping hole of immorality. Not that Draco ever considered himself a moral being, but there were some things you just **didn't **do. Falling for a Mudblood was one of them.

Finally able to fix a disease to his symptoms, Draco was forced to conclude that it was indeed, the end of the world. He was a seething mass of uncontrolled, unrelenting frustration. He could see no clear path to this point. How on earth had this happened? He'd fallen so fast, so completely, that by the time he'd figured it out it was far too late to prevent it. Like twilight on a clear night, it had crept up on him, gaining possession of him to subtly and quickly, that be the time he'd had a chance to look around, it was dark, and he was completely gone. Gone. And pathetic for it.

The portrait swung open. Before Draco had a chance to jump up and dash to his room, she was inside. Today her hair was fixed on top of her head in a messy bun, a few tendril escaping, fluttering down to frame her face in a manner which was so charming, Draco had to physically restrain himself from going over to her and brushing them out of her face. He did get up though, and start towards his room, needing an escape from this bewitcher, and the emotions she contrived within him.

'Draco, wait.' It was a command, and briefly, he saw in his mind the same pattern emerging. Still he waited, curiosity getting the better of him. What could she want now? His avoidance had been much more skilful this time; he'd not neglected his duties in any way.

Lazily turning to face her, he started in surprise at how close she'd gotten. The silence was palpable, she was less then a foot away, and Draco could feel her warm breath on his exposed neck. She was tall, he concluded, for a girl and it made her long and willowy. She possessed a natural grace in the way she walked, the curve of her neck, that drew eyes towards her. He doubted she knew it though, so caught up was she in her own world and studies.

'Hermione,' he said noncommittally, by way of starting a discussion.

'Draco,' she breathed, taking another step towards him.

He felt his colour rise, saw the sudden intelligent gleam in her eye that quite plainly said he had just proved an important theory.

'So it's true then,' she said, tone indescribable. He merely stared at her, trying to regain his composure. The lack of response seemed to encourage her, though god only knew why, and grabbing his head suddenly, she pulled it down towards her, lips meeting his in an almost clinical fashion. He responded, despite himself, and she pulled away, a smirk upon her lips.

'So I thought,' she said, a smile spreading, unbeknownst across her features, 'see you later, Draco.' She turned, and exited the portrait hole, hips swinging, a strange spring to her step. Draco stared after her, unmoving.

_I think I know enough of hate…_

She had made a fool of him. Of this much, he was sure. She hadn't told anyone. But the mocking smile on her face every time she saw him was enough. He hated her for it. Hated her, and vowed he would do something about it. His icy mask was back in force, brought back by the one thing it knew above all else, hate. Hate, and a desire to hurt, to cause pain, to make the other person feel the same unrelenting whirl of poisonous darts aimed at the heart. Insults, hate, mockery, deception, lies; Draco knew them all, he'd experienced them firsthand to the point where he was a master.

What hurt the most, though he would never admit it, was the way she had wormed her way in. The way she had seamlessly parted the faces of his icy mask; she'd unknowing done what no one in Draco's memory had ever been able to do, with the exception of his mother. Unlike the unconditional love and affection of Narcissa, this girl had broken him. She had taken a hammer to his hard exterior and smashed it, until he was nothing but a splintered pile. Well he wasn't about to handle it. Entering the Great Hall at breakfast, Draco strode right up to Gryffindor table. She was eating breakfast, unconcernedly chewing a piece of toast. Not a care in the world. He'd show her, he'd teach her that she couldn't expect to treat him this way.

He stood behind her until, his tall frame casting a shadow over the table. She turned around and seeing him, smiled. A smirk, a knowing little grin which made Draco's blood boil. She still thought she could control him? He'd show her.

'Mudblood,' he said icily, and she stiffened suddenly, eyebrows contracting together in confusion. Draco had to remind himself how she'd played him, as a tendril of guilt wormed its way into his gut. It was with a huge effort, that Draco forced himself to continue, 'Dumbledore wants to meet with us; apparently there is a Christmas ball.' When she rose to accompany him, Draco delivered the cutting blow, 'please Mudblood, make your own way, I feel dirtied just by your presence.' This said, Draco turned and strode away, not before catching the crushed look on Hermione's face.

_To say that for destruction Ice…_

Fire and Ice. Draco thought to himself, as he walked the now familiar path to the headmaster's office. The Mudblood thought she could burn him with her tricks, he showed her. No one makes a fool of Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger least of all. For some inexplicable reason however, the memory of the hurt look in her eyes wouldn't leave him. His footsteps echoed on the stone floor, and Draco was filled with an unfathomable feeling of loneliness. The corridor was deserted and even the portraits seemed to be less animated then usual.

Hermione didn't come to the meeting. Draco sat alone, feeling of guilt growing steadily stronger as Dumbledore talked on. He nodded occasionally, when it seemed as if the man demanded some sort of response, but inside his thoughts were miles away. Was it possible he had misread the situation? Could Granger's smirks have been something else entirely? Draco, with his long history of violence and blackmail, was alien to the true language of the heart. Something inside him however was not. And it was telling him he'd just made an incredible mistake.

Lunch rolled around far too slowly, and when it did, Draco was finally dismissed. His journey back to the Great Hall was far quicker then it needed to be, but Draco had walked far more quickly then he usually did. He was halfway to the Gryffindor table, when he realised she wasn't there. He slowed his gait, and walked causally past, in time to hear Lavender Brown say something to her Indian friend, Parvat, Draco thought it might be.

'Hermione's in Myrtle's bathroom, she hasn't come out since breakfast, won't talk to anyone. I haven't seen her this upset since that time in first year.'

Draco thought he'd been split in half. His mind was reeling, whatever façade he'd been maintaining cracked, and fell away. All at once, he knew what he needed to do. Turning on his heel, Draco Malfoy ran.

_Is also great…_

She was exactly where they said she would be. He could hear her sobs the moment he entered the bathroom.

'Hermione,' Draco called softly, and he felt her sobs halt abruptly. The cubicle door opened, and she walked out, face puffy and red with tears. She looked strangely vulnerable in the half light of the bathroom, and Draco's heart gave a pathetic leap as he saw her and he knew without question that he had indeed done a terrible thing.

'Hermione…' he said again, but got no further, for the girl had opened her mouth again and begun to speak, tone furious and shrill,

'What do you want Malfoy. Come to have another go at me? Perhaps string me along a little bit more? How far will you take it this time?! Try and get me to SLEEP with you! I hate you.' The last line was delivered with such icy force that Draco felt like his world had just ended again.

'Please Hermione, I'm sorry… I was… wrong.' The admission cost him, and she knew it. Briefly her face softened, but it maintained the same air of suspicious dislike. He only had one chance, and he knew it.

'I… thought you were trying to play me. All I've known my whole life is blackmail and masks. I misread your honesty for something it wasn't and… it angered me. Not because of what you did, but because of how well you'd succeeded. You made me feel in a way my own mother would be hard pressed to accomplish. I'm…sorry…' He stood, head bowed as she surveyed him, eyes questioning, lips pursed. Finally she spoke,

'I thought I was stupid to fall for you. I was so sure you were just… acting. But then, that night you kissed me, I understood how you felt, on a level I don't even think you were aware of. Then today, when you did- what you did, it was as if I'd just gotten wrong everything I thought I knew, but worse this time, because so much was a stake…' she gave another half sob, and tears leaked from her eyes, Draco just wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be alright, 'now here you are, saying what you've said, and for once I don't know. I don't know what to believe: my heart, or my head.'

Draco couldn't contain himself any longer, closing the gap between them, he pulled her towards him, their bodies melding together perfectly, leaving no space. Feeling an odd sense of completion, Draco brought his mouth to her ear, his hot breath tickling her cheek as he spoke,

'I think I love you.' A surprised gasp was his answer, as he pulled he head up. Their mouths met, and a jolt ran up his spine. This was not like any of their other kisses. This one was fierce and passionate and carried with it an undercurrent of need, and emotions so strong that Draco almost couldn't bare them. she'd gone partially limp in his arms, and Draco found himself having to support her weight as well. Walking them backwards into the wall, he thrust her up against it, lifting her slightly and allowing her to wrap her legs around him.

Immediately the kiss deepened, intensified, and Draco lifted his hands from her waist, burying one in her hair, as another traced molten patterns on her back and stomach. Both her hands were in his hair, and he revelled in the sensation of her long fingers massaging his scalp and running through his silky, white-blonde hair. After what seemed like an age, they finally broke apart, panting heavily, foreheads just touching.

_And would suffice…_

'What now,' she asked, after an unknown period of staring into each other's eyes. She was still wrapped around his waist, and he found himself glad she was not sitting just a little further down.

'I don't know,' he responded honestly.

'What do you want?' she tried again, sounded nonchalant, but he could tell from the look in her eyes that his answer was incredibly important.

'You.' She smiled. It was so beautiful, and it was official, the world had fallen apart.

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Coming out of his reverie, Draco sat on his bed looking aimlessly at the Green and Silver wall in front of him, seeing, but not really comprehending. He really was in far too deep. Love was such a stupid thing. Let it control you, and you were completely powerless.

His frown changed into a smile, despite his intentions, as the bathroom door opened and Hermione strolled out of it, hair wet and falling in damp ringlets down her back. She smiled as she took in his pose, dressed in nothing but green silk boxers, sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at her with that strange half smile, she still wasn't quite used to.

'Why aren't you in bed yet?' she asked, tone teasing, enjoying the spark in his eye as he took in her naked form, only partly concealed by the towel wrapped around her middle.

'If I was in bed, I wouldn't be able to do this,' he answered simply, jumping up and grabbing her. Towel nothing but a heap on the ground, the two tumbled to the bed, his boxers quickly following suit, a silken pile on the plush carpet. As their hands roamed each other's bodies in a now familiar fashion, Draco had time to reflect that he was mostly definitely stupid and definitely in way too deep. And he loved every second of it. She was the fire that had melted the ice. She had imploded his world, and in its wake, a new one had been born, one in which he finally felt alive.

_Some say the world will end in fire_

_Some say ice._

_From what I've tasted of desire_

_I hold with those who favour fire._

_But if it had to perish twice,_

_I think I know enough of hate,_

_To say that for destruction ice_

_Is also great_

_And would suffice._

_Robert Frost_

**A/N:** This is the longest one-shot I have ever written. I hope you all enjoy it. Feedback would be loved – I'm a bit worried about my characterisation of Draco and Hermione. Please let me know what you think.


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